To Late To Turn Back
by Jack Manson
Summary: Since the contract was forged, Charon has been nothing less than a slave. Now he has a chance to be rid of it, and it's only the wavering promise of his employer that keeps him by her side.
1. Chapter I

**To Late To Turn Back**

By Jack Manson

* * *

_The bombs have fallen, and the wars are over, for now_. . . .

_But we wastelanders fight a new battle_. . . .

_It's a conflict in our hearts_. . . .

_The battle to discover where our worth truly lies_. . . .

* * *

It wasn't the first time Charon or his employer, Vanessa, had to spend the night in an abandoned building, out in the middle of the Capital Wasteland, with a single moldy mattress and no blankets. It wasn't the first time they took turns keeping watch for any raiders or mutants on their way to ransack the structure, and it certainly wasn't the first time the whole routine was too much trouble for what it was worth.

Vanessa was Charon's employer, or more appropriately, his _owner_. A small, young woman from Vault 101, who, despite her age, was already more infamous than the president of the Enclave. She was asleep then, curled up on the old bed next to the barrel fire, warm underneath her enormous russet duster. Vanessa's wild black hair was a mess around her face as she used her traveling pack as a makeshift pillow, and her hollow, shadowy eyes made her seem like a corpse. Her face was relaxed and peaceful, and each exhale of breath made a lock of her hair flutter near her jaw.

Charon kept watch while she slept. He sat on the edge of the ledge, where the wall was blown away and his legs could dangle over the first and second floors, both of which created a height which looked much different from down below. He was staring out across the wasteland with his milky, heavy-lidded, bulging eyes, and waited for something to move in the dark and show a sign of life. Nothing had moved since he had traded positions with Vanessa two hours ago, and he was becoming quite exhausted. Nothing stirred but dust.

His eyes were unfocused, more so than they normally appeared, and his mangled face seemed set into a permanent scowl, a result of his lack of proper sleep. Vanessa had been asleep long past an hour, but he hadn't felt the need to wake her in order to trade posts, at least not yet. But the idea seemed quite tempting then, and Charon figured he'd have to get on with it before he fell asleep sitting at the edge of the third floor and fell off the edge and broke his neck.

Charon let out a raspy sigh and ran a rough hand over his disfigured head. Behind him, he heard a groan and then an exasperated grunt, as Vanessa crawled off the mattress and sloppily pulled on her duster over her mercenary apparel, so it still hung off her shoulders. It was massive on her, and made her look smaller than she already was.

"You didn't wake me up." She mumbled behind him, dragging her feet as she walked.

"I didn't see the need." Charon replied gruffly without turning. Vanessa stood next to him and pulled the shotgun gently from his hands. He didn't resist.

"Get some sleep." She said softly, nudging him to the side so she could take his spot. "It's almost dawn, I'll pack up and then we can leave."

Without objecting, Charon stood up and slouched away towards the mattress and fell on top of it, falling asleep nearly instantly.

He didn't think he'd been asleep for more than a minute before he heard movement around the room as Vanessa packed away their scarce supplies into traveling bags and pouches before dawn came. She briefly leaned over him on the bed and whispered something about needing the bag he was sleeping on, but he merely rolled over and let her take it without a fight. After that, he drifted in an out of sleep between the seconds, sometimes hearing her, sometimes not. At one point she mumbled something to herself about how they needed more stimpaks, and after that, Charon felt something soft fall over him, and he suddenly felt considerably warmer.

He cracked open an eye and saw Vanessa's back turned to him as she rummaged through a bag of some sort. But he noticed instantly that her duster had been draped over his shoulders. He grunted inaudibly and finally fell into a complete sleep.

* * *

Two hours later, the sun had risen over the capital wasteland, and Charon and Vanessa were making their way out of the abandoned complex, their bags slung over their shoulders and their guns loaded in their arms. Charon, of course, was fond of his combat shotgun, and Vanessa used a Gauss Rifle.

"We're going to Megaton to see Church," Vanessa said, stretching her slender arms out over her head and letting out a violent yawn. When she finished, she shook her head and rubbed one of her shadowy eyes. "We need more medical supplies."

Charon gave her a confused stare. "Megaton is half the distance from Paradise Falls." He noted. He didn't even bother to suggest Big Town.

"_Yeah_? You don't think we have the money to pay that asshole for anything, do you?" Vanessa suddenly looked very dangerous. The medic of the Paradise Falls complex had once sold her dud stimpaks for an extravagant price at a time of great need, and when she found out they had been filled with nothing but irradiated water. . . .well, let's just say Charon had never seen her angrier. He wasn't ashamed to admit he had feared for his own life.

So it was Megaton that Vanessa set her sights on, and they began walking, stifling their mid-morning yawns and cracking their joints while keeping their eyes out for any foes.

It had been three months since Vanessa had obtained Charon's contract, and although he had never learned how she got it, he had a fairly good idea. Charon had been freed from Azrukhal's employment a day after Greta had been found murdered outside Underworld. Of course, he knew the shit Greta had gotten herself into, the debts she had with everyone, especially Azrukhal, were only part of her inevitable fate, and when Vanessa had suddenly shown up, all sharp, steel-colored eyes and wild black hair, brandishing his contract before him thoughtfully, he knew Greta had died at a good price.

"You watch my back, I'll watch yours." That's what Vanessa told him after they left underworld, leaving the Ninth Circle, _and_ Azrukhal's body, behind. She wasn't interested in a bodyguard, nor a slave, but a companion, despite the fact that neither of them had done very much bonding since they'd left. In fact, they hadn't done much talking at all. No conversations, no discussions, no personal questions. Both had silently settled upon a simplistic relationship. They talked, but only when they had too.

Still, Charon wasn't fond of Vanessa. He knew nothing about her, except for her exploits, but they didn't fit the nature he had seen in her so far. She was a tiny thing, short, slender, hardly twenty, but she was a capable individual. Her face was slightly gaunt and pointed, but her eyes were wide, calculating, and hardly friendly. She wasn't an _unfriendly_ person, per say, but unapproachable. Distant. And Charon was nearly certain he had never seen her smile. Perhaps a smirk here or there, maybe a quick, approving grin when the occasion called for it, but never a smile. He wondered if she was even happy.

He didn't like her because she was so strange. One moment she'd be helping some poor wastelander bring back their family member from the Super Mutants, and the next minute she was using her stealth boy to pick pocket Lucas Simms for the Megaton Armory key. Charon could hardly place her in a spectrum, and he felt as if he were the exact opposite. Charon killed anything that was a danger to him or his employer. Charon avoided killing whenever possible. Charon hated talking. Charon was a bit of a bastard. Charon was _linear_.

And yet, he had never had an employer like her before. Charon was, for lack of a better word, a _slave_, and Vanessa was his owner. But his other owners gave him orders, while Vanessa gave him guidelines. He hated her because she was his owner, but he _liked_ her because she tried so hard not to be. Just thinking about it made his Ghoulish head swarm sometimes.

"Charon."

He was pulled out of his train of thought as Vanessa came to a stop in front of him, but she didn't turn to look at him. Her voice was always so monotone, it was sickening. She was staring up at the rocky cliff that was up ahead, cutting through their path.

"What is it?" He asked.

She glanced both left and right, seeing how each side of the cliff extended far in each direction. "I don't really feel like walking around that thing," she said matter-of-factly, "how good are you at climbing?"

"Yeah, I can climb." The cliff was jagged, and most of the rocks jutted out far enough to stand on. It seemed easy enough.

Vanessa nodded, her mass of hair moving slightly in the strained breeze. "Good then, because _I_ can't climb worth a damn." They closed the distance between themselves and the base of the cliff before she continued. "You think you could give me a boost?" She asked, glancing at him as she reached up and grabbed the easiest rocks to hoist herself up with.

Charon didn't answer, but he knelt down next to her and cupped his hands close to the ground, and she slipped her right boot into the cradle of his fingers. With little strength required, for Charon was nearly half the size of Vanessa, he pulled her up, and she grunted as she scrambled to find her footing.

"Once more," she called down to him, and with one hand, Charon pushed her up at the small of her back. Her duster hung limply around her tiny frame, and she began to climb. She was slow at first, but soon the rocks became easier to grasp and step on, and she got the hang of it quickly. "Just spot me, will you?" She told him. He mumbled a reply as he began to follow her up the cliff.

It wasn't as bad as it looked from the distance. Most of the climbing was just swinging their legs up over boulders and repeating the process. It wasn't long until they reached the top.

Charon watched as Vanessa's torso disappeared over the top of the boulder, followed quickly by her legs. She was gone for only a moment, however, before she reappeared and extended her arm down for him to take, to help drag him up. He felt the gesture was in vain, however, because although she was strong for her size, she wasn't strong enough to even joke about trying to pull his weight.

Still, Charon reached out his own hand and tried to take hers, but he grasped nothing but air. There was an ear-splitting roar a second later, and Vanessa vanished again over the cliff top as an enormous, clawed appendage struck the ground she had been kneeling on seconds before. It was a deathcalw, unmistakably, and Charon saw it's armored tail whip out over the boulder as it turned on it's heal, most likely chasing Vanessa. The suddenly appearance of the wild creature was so sudden, it took a moment for the Ghoul to realize he was still waiting to get up over the boulder.

There was an urgency to get to the top of the cliff now that was so bewildering, Charon slipped on the rocks the first time he tried to pry himself up. He shook off his confusion, however, and clambered up the boulder and tried to hoist himself up by his arms only. His feet dangled helplessly and his boots scraped across the boulder's smooth edge fruitlessly. From his vantage point, however, he could see both Vanessa and the deathclaw a few yards away from the edge. The monster's back was turned towards him, its tail swinging dangerously back and forth in a threatening gesture.

If Vanessa was worried, she did not show it, though Charon hadn't expected her to. Her expression, as usual, was careful, controlled, and she was aiming her Gauss Rifle as the beast charged, her sharp eyes close to the scope. . . ._Bang_! The blast hit the monster straight in the neck, and it stumbled backwards slightly, roaring in pain and anger. But a single shot wasn't enough to stop a wasteland beast like this, and it charged again, as Vanessa hurried to reload her rifle.

Charon was up now, fumbling to pull his shotgun from off his shoulder. Like Vanessa, he took aim and-

The shot struck the deathclaw in the back of the head, between the horns, but the thick hide wasn't punctured enough to bring it down, and it stopped for only a moment, whipping around to see whom else it could tear apart. Its evil eyes fell on Charon for only a second, and it decided he could wait. It pivoted once more and tried to finish his charge against Vanessa, only its brief pause had given her enough time to reload the rifle once more.

She shot the creature point blank, and Charon saw nothing but a tangle of limbs in dust as the deathclaw fell forward, followed by a sharp, piercing cry of pain and a final, vicious roar.

Charon stood for a moment, discombobulated, and then realized he couldn't see Vanessa. He rushed to the beast's body and peered over the edge. She was there, pinned to the dirt by her foe's carcass, and her face was screwed up in pain as she fought for air.

"Fuck-" He dropped his gun quickly and braced himself against the deathclaw's body, pushing as hard as he could and with all his strength to force the thing off her. Gradually, as her chest was free, Vanessa let in a greedy inhale of dusty air, coughed up blood, and then let out a terrible, shaky cry. Charon pushed the lifeless animal away from her entirely, and then turned to see what was the matter.

She screamed, "fucking. . . ._fuck_. . . ." She was tilting her head up to get a better look at her chest, which had been torn open and was bleeding profusely. The sight was sickening, and the blood was thick and gushing.

"Holy shit-" Charon gaped at her. She was messed up-big time. The deathclaw must have slashed her in that final moment before it died and she was bleeding so terribly that the Ghoul could already see the color draining from her already colorless face.

"Charon," she gasped, throwing her head back into the dirt and taking sharp, painful gasps. "We don't have any more stimpaks. I need you to-" she groaned, "-patch me up the old fashioned way."

He stared at her, hesitant. "I'm not a doctor." He said.

She gave him a sharp look. "Fuck you, _you're not a doctor!_" She snarled, and Charon saw anger flush into her normally stoic eyes. "Just stop the--_fuck_--bleeding! Wrap me up like a fucking mummy, if you have to!"

He scowled, not enjoying having her anger taken out on him, despite the fact he didn't blame her and would have done the same thing if he were in her position. He pulled his traveling pack from his back and pulled from it several ravels of bandages, a pack of gauges, and a bottle of purified water. He used his knife to cut away the fabric of her mercenary clothes--he didn't hesitate because he knew she kept several pairs of clothes in her bag--and poured the water over the gashes. Charon hardly noticed she was half-naked, and he supposed she didn't care either, because she made no move to cover herself.

The bleeding didn't stop, but he was able to see the severity of the wounds. He frowned, but it wasn't an expression he was used to. It was sympathy, or maybe pity. He realized Vanessa most likely wouldn't survive without stimpaks and a proper doctor. The claw slashes were deep, and long, and as soon as the water washed away the blood, more pooled up around the surfaces and spilled down her chest into the dirt.

Somewhere, in the back of his ghoul mind, a voice said, _that wouldn't be so bad_. . . .

He ignored it. Charon quickly started pressing the gauges over the slashes, and then wrapped the bandages around her several times, tying them firmly under her arm. He wasn't good at first aid, and hoped he was doing it correctly.

The bandages strained her breathing slightly, but the blood was already starting to slow. Charon was quiet for a moment, before he realized some form of action needed to be taken.

"Now what?" He asked. Charon was used to having Vanessa make the decisions, as well as anyone he worked for, but when he looked up at her face, he realized that, this time, it wasn't the case. At some point she had passed out, and her face was more relaxed as she strained to breath. Her shadowy eyes looked darker than usual now that her skin was deathly pale.

"God _damnit_." He cursed under his breath, grabbing the back of his mangled head in frustration. But he knew he needed a plan, a route. He needed to find her stimpaks, and keep her alive until he found someone who could properly patch her up, a doctor, or a medic. He thought, at first, of Paradise Falls, but then remembered they had only a couple of caps on them, and the medic there charged a fortune, and charity wasn't in his nature.

Charon didn't even consider Big Town, because the last time Vanessa showed up on their bridge with him by her side, they were welcomed with gunfire, rocks, and a stupid bitch screaming "_ghoul-lover_!" as they ran for it.

Little Lamplight wouldn't take them in. They weren't friendly towards anyone who was older than twelve, and Charon found that ironic, considering all of them were heading in that direction anyways.

He sighed in that raspy way of his and shook his head. They had to continue on to Megaton. Unless they had a stroke of luck and found another town, or met a traveling doctor, Church was the only one who was a sure bet. That'd take at least three days, though, and Vanessa sure as hell didn't have three days.

_So_. . . ._just leave her_. . . .It was the same little voice as before. Charon frowned at it, frowned at Vanessa. It did seem like the easy way out of the predicament. Put her out of her misery and then. . . .the contract. Charon could burn it and be free for good. He'd never be a slave again, he'd be able to. . . .

He shook his head, angry at himself. He had morals too. He may have been a Ghoul of few words, who shot at anything that moved because he was paranoid, and who avoided conversing at nearly all costs, but he had some sense of right and wrong. Vanessa didn't deserve a death like this after all she had done for the Capital wasteland.

But did _he_ deserve it? He was struck with a selfish thought all of a sudden, and imagined himself out there in the wasteland, alone and free of all ties and relations. _Free_. The word sent a longing through him that he could hardly bear.

And at that moment, Vanessa's cold, strained voice cut through his thoughts, and he heard his name. "Charon." The Ghoul looked at her, and those steel-colored eyes were looking at him as if she could see right into his mind. She was awake again, barely, but the light hadn't yet died out, even though she looked more like a corpse than ever. But Charon saw something on her expression that nearly floored him.

Vanessa was _smiling_. Hardly, mind you, but it was there all right, and it wasn't a smirk or an approving grin that came and went like the wind, it was a comforting sort of smile, and it made Charon realize that, despite her odd nature, Vanessa was, in fact, human at heart.

"I know what you're thinking," she said softly and quietly, "I'm not an idiot." She paused, grimacing, and then continued, "if you get me to Megaton, _alive_, I'll burn your contract myself."

There was a split second in which Charon felt his stomach disappear, but it came back as soon as it left, and his misty eyes narrowed ever-so-lightly. He was sure she couldn't have seen it, for her eyes closed again in pain. Was she lying? She could have been; have him keep her alive on the basis of an empty promise, and then, right when his hopes were the highest, she'd take them from him and change her mind.

But, he had trouble believing that. As cunning as Vanessa was, he didn't think she'd do something like _that_. She was, after all, his most peculiar employer.

"Alright," he said after awhile, long after her smile had faded. Vanessa nodded, acknowledging him, and Charon carefully dragged her up from off the ground and onto his back, so her slender legs hung over his arms, and her body was up against his shoulder blades and spine. Weakly, Vanessa's arms wrapped around Charon's neck, and he paused. It was odd seeing her in such a vulnerable state, when he had been so used to seeing her so fit and alert, capable and strong. Independent. Now, her very life depended on her slave.

"Don't be so rough;" she mumbled into his mutilated ear, "this pain is already bad enough. I think there may have been poison on that fucker's claw."

To his great surprise, Charon chuckled. He was taken aback, for he rarely ever laugh, just as Vanessa rarely ever smiled. "Great," he said, "where to?" He was trying to determine which direction to start in.

"Towards the freeway," she said, glancing at her pipboy. "Just keep heading north."

Charon shifted her gently against his back, distributing her weight more evenly. As he began to walk, he kept all his senses on full alert. He wouldn't be able to just drop Vanessa if some Raider came out of nowhere and thought it was to good day to shoot at everyone and everything, or worse, if another deathclaw picked up their trail.

Eventually, Vanessa drifted off into an agitated sleep, her head resting limply on the back of his shoulder, and her breath on the side of his neck.

_This is too much trouble_; Charon thought irritably, _I should just leave her_.

But he felt it was to late for that.


	2. Chapter II

_Allies and enemies are sometimes identical_. . . .

_Regrets and achievements can be one in the same_. . . .

_Time is sometimes irrelevant_. . . .

_And hope is hardly ever the answer_. . . .

* * *

The house on the horizon had smoke rising up from its half-hazard roof, and Charon nearly collapsed with relief at the sight of it. Even if raiders were staking out within it, there was nothing that was going to stop him from kicking in the door and blasting away anyone inside. He needed to scrounge for supplies, mainly stimpaks, and even if the inhabitant was some wastelander, he wouldn't hesitate to take anything by force. Certain circumstances called for certain measures.

Vanessa's dead weight was getting heavier by the minute, and Charon's back was ready to snap between the shoulders. Her breathing was hoarser and shallower than before, and he had the distinct feeling that she was fading, fast, and that meant he had to act quickly.

A few yards away from the house, Charon laid Vanessa carefully inside one of the charred cars that had piled up around the area, and made sure that nothing could see her, even if it came past the car door. When he was satisfied with her concealment, he snuck away and kept his shotgun on guard as he neared the front door.

First, he peered through the grimy windows with his milky eyes and saw no movement inside. Still, he kept away from the screen door as he pried it open with his free hand and edged in through the gap he made.

The front room was a mess of tattered furniture, but it was clear somebody lived there. It was dimly lit by a lantern hanging from the ceiling, which whistled softly as it burned, and the dust on the floor had an uneven line of footprints that had left a distinct pathway to each of the doorways. The whole place reeked of something awful, but he didn't acknowledge it.

Charon was quiet as he went through each room of the house, searching ungracefully through cabinets and drawers for anything he could put to use. The kitchen was warm, and the food on the table was half-eaten and a day old. Filthy dishes were piled up in the sink, but it didn't matter, because whoever lived there was using foil to eat off of.

He found very few supplies that he deemed useful. He found ammo for his own shot gun, but all the other guns in the house were pistols and hunting rifles, neither of which he nor Vanessa had much use for. Despite this, Charon unloaded the weapons and stuffed the ammo in his bag, in case the owner returned and decided he didn't quite like ghouls sneaking around his house.

It was in the bathroom that Charon finally got lucky. He pulled back the mirror hanging over the sink and tossed a few bottles of buffout out of the way so they clattered noisily on the floor as he searched for anything useful. His heart leapt as his hand landed on an unused stimpak, and he pulled it out of the cabinet, astonished.

Still, there was only one in the cabinet, but it would have to do for now. He pocketed it with a half-relieved sigh, and turned to head back out. He went to retrieve Vanessa in the car, and decided they could afford to remain in the house for a little while longer to rest. She needed proper sleep, and his back was aching horribly.

He carried her inside, this time holding her in his arms, rather than on his back, and set her down on the tattered couch in the front room, using her traveling pack to cushion her head.

"Where are we?" She mumbled, and groaned as she woke. Her nose wrinkled as she smelled the horrible stench of the place.

"A house," he replied. Then, without warning her, he tugged away the flaps of her duster, and pierced her with the stimpak needle over her navel, just under the bottom edge of the bandages. Vanessa seethed silently through gritted teeth, but said nothing, and Charon squeezed the stimpak's handles and watched as the fluid within the cylinder flooded into her bloodstream.

The results were instantaneous, and quickly, there was a slight relief in Vanessa's breathing, and her eyes fluttered open a crack, pained, but more relaxed. The veins beneath her skin went green for a split second, before turning blue again.

"How many did you find?" She asked; a slight flicker of eagerness in her eyes. Charon came to the conclusion at that moment that Vanessa was, in fact, a little bit afraid of death, despite her seemingly indifferent attitude.

"Just one," he answered gruffly, "we'll stay here for a little longer and then head out again."

For the second time in a short while, Vanessa shot him a small smile, and he wondered briefly if she was going crazy. She said, "You do well when you make the decisions. I should have let you do it more often."

_Should have_, she said. Charon wondered if she remembered her promise, about burning the contract after they got to Megaton. He would have smiled at the thought, if he remembered how to.

For about half and hour, Vanessa slept, and Charon sat beside her on the floor, growing suspicious with the house inhabitant's absence. He thought they would have returned by now, because all the lanterns in the house were still lit, and it seemed unreasonable to not blow them out before leaving for a long while.

However, no sooner had the thought begun to make him uncertain about remaining in the shack any longer, did the screen door suddenly fly open with a piercing screech of metal-on-metal.

Charon was on his feet in seconds, aiming his shotgun into the face of a middle-aged man, who must have been a hunter, for he carried a wild-looking animal in his hand, dragging it on the ground behind him, and it was oozing blood all over the porch.

Still, as the seconds passed, he didn't seem at all phased about having a shotgun barrel aimed straight between his eyes by a ghoul, and to Charon's astonishment, he merely peered around his tall figure to see Vanessa's limp body laid across his moth-eaten couch.

The man tweaked his nose, smearing the animal's blood across the bridge, and sniffed. "She dead?" He asked. He took no notice of the blood.

"Almost," Charon said suspiciously, as he lowered his gun slowly,"I had to bring her here. . . ." his opaque eyes flashed across the man's appearance, "hope you don't mind."

The owner obviously didn't care, and began to pull the slain beast into his kitchen without a reply. He went to the counter, where he managed to heave it up onto the surface next to the massive pile of dishes.

He pulled an enormous carving knife out from one of the drawers, and glanced at Vanessa from over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Those bandages look pretty nasty. You should change them. I have a stimpak up in my bath-"

"I already took it."

The hunter shrugged and started to slice and dice the animal, not bothering with trying to avoid a mess. Blood smeared across his clothing, and it pooled up around his feet where it drizzled down from the counter top. The smell of the house mixed with the creature's filthy corpse was so excruciatingly unbearable, that Charon went to stand out on the porch for a few minutes, taking deep breaths.

After a moment or two of fresh air, he reentered the house with his sleeve over his skull-like nose, not caring whether or not the man was insulted, and asked, "Are there any doctors around here? Or a town of some sort?"

"Around here?" The man repeated, raising his eyebrows. "No. The closest community is Big Town, but they're. . . .Well. . . ." He eyed Charon as if he were afraid to insult him.

"Ghoul bigots." Charon finished for him.

The hunter frowned. "That's right."

"We won't stay here long, we're headed towards Megaton," Charon told him, sitting down on the couch next to Vanessa and absentmindedly making sure the flaps of her duster were covering her entirely. The bandages hid her breasts, but he still felt as if she were exposed to the house owner.

The man carried an armful of gory organs through the room and outside, and disappeared for a moment. He returned a second later, waving his hands out in front of him to be rid of the dripping blood, and it splattered across the floors. He saw the questioning look Charon gave him and grinned. There were specks of blood on his cheeks. "Deathclaws don't bother me, even though most of the animals and wasteland monsters around these parts know I live here. If I hunt, I throw all the crap I don't eat out behind the rocks."

Charon wasn't really sure if he was comfortable knowing this man had a friendly relationship with deathclaws or anything of the sort. Then he realized he didn't quite care.

The hunter fell into an armchair that the ghoul noticed was already stained with dried blood, and gave the two of them a calculating gaze. He was very rugged underneath all the gore, but his hair was filthy and oily, and his skin covered in dirt. He looked as if he hadn't bathed in months. Charon wondered if that was one of the smells that were making his stomach churn.

Finally, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "You two some sort of couple? I haven't seen a ghoul and smooth skin together before."

"No." Charon said firmly. But he didn't explicate.

He nodded, straight-face, with a sharp expression in his eyes as they landed back on Vanessa. "That's too bad," he said darkly, "She's a pretty little thing. Hope she makes it."

For a crazy moment, Charon was tempted to say, "I hope she doesn't," but his lack of desire to talk helped him resist it. But he wasn't sure if it wasn't entirely true, because if she was alive, his freedom was only a potential. If she were dead, it was assured.

Staying to his word, the two of them didn't stay long; mostly due to the fact that the man kept giving Vanessa incredibly dirty looks, as if he knew her. After he returned to his messy butchering, Charon slipped out the front door with Vanessa piled up on top of his back again, along with both their traveling bags and their guns. It could only be a miracle that Charon was still able to walk.

He glanced at her pipboy, which he could see on her arm as it hung over his shoulders, and found the path to Megaton once more. He started walking, as fast as the weight on his back allowed him, and an hour or two passed before he realized he had never returned the man's ammunition he had stolen from the loaded guns.

_Oh well_, Charon thought, dumping the extra weight from his pockets on the ground and picking up his pace once more. None of it was compatible with their guns anyways, and he wasn't about to turn back.

He was relieved to see that, so far, he had not run into any raiders or wasteland creatures, but the ghoul continued to keep a sharp eye and ear out for anything. Most of the animals in the wasteland were simple enough to kill, but if one of the more dangerous ones were to attack, then it would be two injured on the path to Megaton, instead of just one. Or, possibly, two dead.

As dangerous as deathclaws were, they were less populated than his least favorite animals, the radioactive scorpions. They were poisonous, and Charon had first-hand experience with those stingers when he had been attacked by one about a month back. He was just starting out with Vanessa, and they hardly knew one another, but the scorpion attack had jump started their friendly cooperation. Charon had spent three days clutching Vanessa's hand tightly, channeling the excruciating pain away from himself. The poison had made him lose control of his muscles, so he hadn't learned until it had left his system that he had broken her finger. She hadn't minded much.

But Charon wasn't going to let the threat of wasteland attacks slow him down. The way he saw it, he had a genuine chance to be rid of that cursed contract while keeping his conscience clear, as long as Vanessa kept her word. But something nagged him silently at the back of his mind, telling him that if she _did_ end up changing her mind, it wouldn't be so bad. That voice was slightly outspoken by the one that was eager for Charon to just drop Vanessa in the dirt and vanish.

Still, the ghoul couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Vanessa would change her mind. She hardly needed him at all, really. He often wondered why exactly she had purchased his contract in the first place, because while she had said it was a watch-my-back-I-watch-yours type of deal, he didn't do much _watching_ at all. The times he really had come to her aid were few and far in between, despite the fact her current predicament seemed to blow the rest out of the water.

She let out a dry cough suddenly, startling him, and she awoke with a groan. "I feel sick," she moaned into his neck.

"I only gave you one stimpak." He reminded her.

"Can we stop for a moment?" She whispered through her cracked voice. She sounded a little uncertain about where she was.

Charon stopped walking, thinking that a break would be a welcomed thing as of then, and set her down on the crumbling road. The traveling packs were set behind her so she could sit and stay upright.

Underneath the duster, Charon could see that the bandages binding her chest were soiled with an astounding amount of blood, but it was all dry. She looked down at herself and scoffed, as if the whole thing was like getting a splinter.

"I won't make it unless you close the wounds." Vanessa told him through gritted teeth.

"You mean stitches?"

"Yeah, stitches. . . ." She said slowly. She raised a weary hand and pointed at her bag. "I have needle and thread in there somewhere. All you need to do is sew me up."

Although he was slightly grateful she was no longer being cross with him, Charon felt she may have been a bit delusional. She was asking a bit much from him, for he had never sewn anything in his entire life, even from before the war.

Still, he saw the subtle plea in her eyes and let out a hoarse sigh. The emotion he had been seeing in those eyes since she had been injured was making him a bit soft, he supposed.

"I'll _try_," he said uncertainly, and began rummaging through her bag for the necessities. He came across a large spool of black thread and several needles, and he chose the thinnest one he could without it looking as if it were going to break. He set it aside for a moment as he reached over her and began to peel away the filthy bandages, leaving them piled up on the ground behind him.

While Vanessa used her duster to hide her breasts from him, Charon was stunned to see that each of the three symmetrical slashes weren't bleeding any longer. However, Vanessa's prediction that the deathclaw had been poisonous (however that worked) seemed to be correct. The skin around her wounds was red and puffy, and there was a sickening, yellowish substance oozing slowly from the raw, exposed skin. He was relieved to see, however, that the gashes were not as deep as they had seemed.

It looked both infected and poisoned at the same time, and Charon felt the familiar pitying feeling bubbling beneath his surface again.

He picked up the needle and thread, and tried to figure out what to do first.

"How do I thread this?" He asked Vanessa, holding the two objects out in front of her.

Even though she seemed about ready to pass out again, she managed to shoot him an impatient look. It contrasted strangely against her grayish skin, which had an unhealthy, waxy glaze about it. She said softly, "slide the tip of the thread through the hole and. . . ." she took a deep breath before continuing with a strained voice, as if she were holding back heart burn, "_loop the string and tie a knot_."

Charon had no idea what she was talking about, but decided he could figure it out by himself. After awhile of cursing under his breath and pricking his fingers, the thread and needle were ready to work, and Vanessa's wounds were suddenly the most complicated things on the planet.

For a moment, his hands sort of hovered over them, until he finally decided to just take the plunge and start. He pierced her skin gently with the tip of the needle, and ignored the sharp intake of breath she let out as he pulled the thread across the gaping wound and pricked the other side. After the fourth piercing, Vanessa grabbed his arm roughly and dug her fingers into the leather. He paid her no mind and continued what he was doing. The stitches were half hazard and unprofessional, but the wound was nearly closed now, and he managed to tie the knot so they wouldn't come loose.

The more times he threaded the needle into her skin, the gentler her grip became on his arm. She seemed to be getting used to the pain, but she still bit her lip in fear of cursing out at him. Charon finished the first and second gash without a problem, and by the third, she hardly moved at all. Though he was sure just touching to sore skin must have been terribly painful.

"You're not so bad at this." She said, watching as he criss-crossed the last of the thread and tied the final knot. The skin was still puffy, and it was starting to turn a strange shade of purple.

"Hm," he replied quietly, pouring water over her wounds again, hoping it would help. He was trying to ignore the way Vanessa was staring at him, her expression carefully guarded once more, her steel-colored eyes stoic and half-lidded.

And then, out of nowhere, she asked, "how did your contract get written?"

Charon paused, and looked at her carefully. She stared back, as if she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. But she _had_, and she must have known it. Neither one of them asked the other anything about their personal lives. Charon _never_ inquired about her infamous exploits, and she _never_ wondered about his past. He wasn't sure how to talk to her this way, and it took him awhile to reply.

Hesitantly, he said, "I was part of a. . . .Group. Way back after the war ended. I was a slave then, and ghouls were never treated humanely. Nobody really knew what had happened to us, and they didn't think we were human, so we were usually never kept by the slavers for long, because no one ever wanted us." He paused, and saw she was still listening, waiting for him to go on. He wasn't sure if he wanted to, but he did anyways.

"This guy came along, and he'd been going through the capital wasteland, rounding up all the healthy male ghouls he could find. I was one of them, and he brought me off the slavers. He made sure we were in good shape again before he started his little training session, and then we found out what he was really doing.

"We were being made into slaves again, but subtly. After awhile, we found out he was starting some fucking bodyguard service or something, and whoever held our contracts had our complete and utter loyalty. It was slavery in its most glorified form."

Vanessa watched him for a moment, but merely said, "Azrukhal told me you had been brainwashed. How did you end up being so attached to a piece of paper?"

He didn't reply, and Vanessa took his silence the way he intended it to be. He didn't want to talk about that part of his life, and especially not to _her_. He keeps his mind focused on the process of wrapping the clean bandages around her chest again, and she exposes herself for only a moment or two before he covers her again with the fresh linen.

Vanessa is still watching him, and when he pulls away, she says, "I'll keep that promise, Charon. I'll burn the contract for you." And she gently touched his mangled cheek with her soft fingertips. He went stiff, his instinct telling him to shove her away, but he did no such thing. She was frowning at him, but he couldn't read her expression. "I just need _you_ to help me before I can do it."

Charon realized then that they had something in common; a dependency problem. As much as Vanessa was a straight-faced, capable wastelander, she was still human, and she still had to succumb to depending on people every now and then, even if she didn't want to. Charon was unwillingly dependent on the sheet of paper she had in her possession, making him dependent on her, in a way.

It was a strange thing.

* * *

After the stitches and new bandages, Vanessa was able to walk herself, rather than having to be carried by Charon. As long as he helped balance her, she could lumber along by his side.

But things were turning bad for the infamous wastelander. Although very little of her strength had returned to her, Charon found that she was slipping in and out of touch with reality, and he suspected it was the work of the poison, if there was any.

After being patched up more thoroughly, she had changed into her spare clothes, the mercenary apparel she had stolen off of some poor idiot who had tried to collect on her bounty. Her duster still hung on her shoulders, but her lack of posture meant she kept tripping on it, and after awhile, Charon had ordered her to pack it away to save them some trouble. He was carrying both of the traveling packs, but Vanessa had her Gauss Rifle in her hand, despite the fact she could hardly lift it.

According to the pipboy, they were halfway to Megaton by then, and the chances of Vanessa's survival were at a standstill. On one end of the spectrum, she was no longer bleeding, and her wounds were closed. Charon could already see the color slowly crawling its way back into her skin.

However, at the other end of that spectrum, she was getting dizzy. Her eyes had shadows underneath them that were dark and unhealthy; it looked like someone had smeared coal dust all around them. She had trouble walking, and Charon had to bear most of her weight on his side, which wasn't any less tiring than bearing it on his back. And perhaps the most unnerving thing of all was her lack of conscience. One minute, she'd be talking to Charon as if he were _Charon_, and the next, she thought he was her father.

"I think Amata hid my BB gun. . . ." she mumbled somewhere near his shoulder.

"Is that so," Charon said, not quite listening to her. He didn't know who Amata was, and he certainly knew Vanessa never used BB guns, at least not since he had met her.

"She doesn't like me using it," she whispered, "She thinks it's dangerous."

Charon didn't answer this time.

"Will you ask the Overseer to get it back?"

He sighed. "Sure thing."

"What?"

He looked down at her, and saw that she was looking at him with half-focused eyes. She seemed to know who she was talking to all of a sudden.

"What was I saying?" She asked, wavering slightly on her feet.

"Do you want to take a rest?" Charon suggested, and she nodded, looking sick. They were near an old drive-through theater, so he led her over to the car and helped her sit on the hood of an old Ford.

He wanted to ask her how she was feeling, but he felt as if the inquiry would have been pointless. Instead, he fished out of one of the bags a bottle of water and handed it to her. At first she only stared at it, baffled, and then seemed to realize what it was, and drained it in one go. Some of the water spilled down her chin, but she didn't seem to care. When he offered her food, she refused it, claiming that she wasn't hungry.

"Where are we?" She asked, her voice so hoarse it was hard to understand her. She was looking around as if they were on an alien planet. He suspected that she may have thought so.

"Halfway to Megaton," he told her. It was almost dark, and he hoped to reach the makeshift city before tomorrow afternoon.

"Let's just sleep then," she said suddenly, and nearly hit her head on the hood of the car as she fell backwards. Charon flung himself forward to catch her, and dragged her upwards so her head was up against his chest. He had no idea what she needed or what _he_ needed to do. He felt she may have been a bit insane, because Vanessa in the right state of mind would have known that sleeping on the hood of a car at night was a very stupid thing to do when you were out in the middle of nowhere.

But she didn't seem up to moving, and he wasn't fond of the idea of carrying her again. He reached out his arm and grunted, "Give me your gun." She handed it over without a fuss, and he traded it for his shotgun. As much as he loved his old gun, the Gauss Rifle was normally a one-hit kill, and if they were going to stay put for awhile, he needed to be careful.

Charon climbed up onto the hood of the car next to her, and glanced around them, making sure there was nothing in sight. Besides him, Vanessa fell sideways over his lap and closed her eyes. He hardly took notice of her.

They were on the hood of the car for about twenty minutes, sitting in silence, which was broken only by Vanessa's occasional incoherent mumblings as she slept. He heard his name once or twice, but also heard her mention names he'd never heard before, such as Butch. He wasn't sure if that was even a _name_, however.

At some point, around midnight, Vanessa's breathing became more strained and she woke with a start. He was sure by now she had no idea where she was, or who she was _with_, because she was crying softly, and kept asking for someone named Jonas. Charon had no idea who the hell Jonas _was_, but he was more concerned with seeing her cry. He had never seen her cry in the three months he'd been in her service, not even from dust in the eye.

"Don't leave me again. . . ." she mumbled.

Charon stared at her, and her hand was tight around his kneecap. "I'm not going anywhere," he said incredulously.

She tilted her head until her face was buried into his legs. "Why did you have to go?"

He wasn't sure what to say.

"The overseer nearly killed me. You could have taken me with you."

_Oh_, he thought, she must have been talking to her dad again. He reached over and moved her so he could see her face, and gently pried open her lids and examined her eyes. They whites were stained dark red, and they were glossy and unfocused.

"Christ. . . ." he sighed to himself. She was getting worse, even after she had gotten better. Cursing to himself, he pulled her arm over his shoulders again to steady her and lifted her up onto her feet. Charon was very tired, but he didn't want to waste time resting when Megaton was still far away.

They began to walk, and Vanessa looked around in a daze. "Where. . . ."

He didn't know who she was talking to now, him, or somebody else, but he quickly said, "Megaton," and she fell silent.

They walked for a little longer in silence, their feet dragging through the dust and weeds, and quite suddenly, Vanessa said, "I love you."

Charon tried to ignore her. _She's talking to her dad_, he reminded himself_, just leave her be and keep going._

But the usually stoic-faced Vanessa wasn't going to stop just there. Her head lolling, she moved as close as she could to Charon and nudged her head against his shoulder. Unable to bring himself to ignore this sort of affection, he came to a stop, but he didn't look at her.

"I don't blame you," she said quietly, yet so clearly that it seemed like she really _was_ talking to him. The ghoul kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "For leaving. . . .I just wish I had known mom as well as I had known you. You were the greatest man the wasteland could have asked for."

There was something foreign tugging at Charon's heart then, as he listened to her talk. There was an unimaginable amount of sadness in her voice that seemed to make the world come to a standstill. She was crying, silently and softly, but he could tell nonetheless. And, finally, he looked down at her.

"I wish you had never died," she sobbed into his leathers.

He felt dizzy, almost as bad as she was. There was a time before Charon had become a ghoul, a life he tried not to remember, and memories he tried to keep buried in the back of his mind. He had been a good person back then, a loving husband, and father.

Those words. . . ._I wish you had never died_. He had heard them before, spoken from the woman he loved before the radiation had consumed him, and killed her. There was a time when he had survived after the war in a tiny settlement, and he and his wife and son had been content, almost happy. But that was before the last few bombs fell and washed away the last trace of sanity in the life. The explosion consumed his son, barely twelve, and they had watched, from a coincidental distance, as the people they had survived with burned alive.

They had to leave after that, and it was then Charon began to feel the effects of all the radiation he had been exposed to. His wife was not so resistant, and she was dying, almost as how Vanessa was dying now. She would forget where she was, forget who she _was_, and forget who those around her were. She didn't recognize Charon any longer, but he stayed by her while his skin became mangled, and she withered away. And it was then; she said the last words he would ever hear her say.

"My son. . . ._Our_ son. . . ." she whispered, and Charon stared at her, startled. She hadn't recognized him in months. She was crying, with no sobs and no movement, but the tears were trailing down her cheeks in trails. Her eyes looked distant, but he knew she had been talking to him. And she said at last, _"I wish he had never died."_

Charon hardly remembered that life, before he had been collected by the slavers and connected to the contract. He couldn't remember what his wife had looked like, or what his son sounded like. But he liked it better that way. He had a new life now, a second life, and it didn't include them. But Vanessa's words. . . .Even if she didn't know it, they had brought back a flood of emotion he hadn't felt since. . . .Well, he couldn't remember.

There was sympathy and sadness in his normally scowling, opaque eyes, and he stared down at the wild-haired, steel-eyed girl he had been so keen on saving. For a moment, he hesitated, and then, the arm around her waist, keeping her supported, wrapped around her tighter, and he was nearly hugging her, as he began to walk again.

But, thankfully, the images in his mind were being swept away by the sound of footsteps up ahead. He looked up, and saw up on the ridge of rocks they were parallel to a man, and he _knew_ this man.

"Hey you down there! Ghoul!" He called. He was the house owner from earlier, but he looked different. For one, his clothes were no longer covered in blood and gore, and mounted on his back was an _enormous_ gun, and in his hands was a sniper rifle.

He seemed out of breath, and Charon realized he had run all the way to catch up with them. He was sweating, and the dirt and grime on his rugged race was more prominent than ever. Charon was conscience that he had stolen the man's ammo, but it didn't seem like that was the reason he had tracked them both down.

"What do you need?" Charon called back up to him.

"I'm here as a Good Samaritan." Says the house owner, then he gestured down the path in which Charon and Vanessa had just come from. "You may want to get on up here on these rocks. There's a pack of Yao Guai heading this way, and they look hungry."

There was a moment in which Charon thought he was being lied to, but his head snapped around as he suddenly heard the howls and whines coming their way. The moment he had with Vanessa just then must have made him loose focus and drop his guard. But those noises were Yao Guai all right, and while one was easy enough to take out with the proper weapon, an entire pack was equivalent to going up against a deathclaw. _Alone_.

Charon rushed himself and Vanessa towards the rocks, where the man was already trying to reach them without jumping off himself.

"Lift me up the girl," he said, and Charon grunted as he heaved Vanessa's half-awake body over the rocks, and the man grabbed her arms and dragged her up. He held her tight around the middle and began to ascend to the top of the ridge. She started to look around wildly, confused.

"What's going on?" She asked through her cracked lips.

"Just saving you from getting eaten, Hun." The man said to her with a quick grin.

Vanessa gave him a startled look and said, "Who the fuck are _you_?"

He didn't answer, and instead rushed back over to help Charon onto the ridge. The Yao Guai had noticed them, and were storming towards the rocks now, snarling and roaring as they scrambled over one another to get the first bite. Charon had to kick some of them away before he was a safe distance away, and although the mongrels were trying to climb their way up towards them, it was no use. They weren't much of climbers.

Charon scrambled up next to the house owner and watched as the rocks were surrounded in an instant by vicious, bear-like dogs, all fighting to try and reach them. There were about twenty.

"We'll be okay, we can take them out one at a time," said the man. Charon nodded, but then turned towards Vanessa, who was sitting upright on a rock.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

And just as the words came out of his mouth, she keeled over, vomiting heavily over the rocks besides the one she was sitting on. Charon grimaced, and she sat back up, her eyes half-lidded and bloodshot, her skin a waxy pale.

"Like shit." She said roughly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He noticed her arm shaking viciously as she lifted it and the muscles spasm under her skin. Charon wondered idly about what she could have possibly thrown up, because he hadn't seen her eat anything throughout the whole day.

The man, who had been watching quietly up until that point, finally stood and offered a casual smile. Vanessa looked at him, her eyes still cold and unfriendly despite her current condition.

"So," she said, "who are you?"

"Jefferson," said the man, "I'm a hunter. And a lucky one to come across in your predicament." He raised the sniper rifle at that point and took aim on one of the Yao Guai. He pulled the trigger, and the dog let out a squeal and fell over, lifeless, blood oozing from his head. Jefferson smiled, satisfied, and then turned back towards them. "See? We'll be off this heap of rocks in no time."

Vanessa gave Charon a blank look. "Where did you dig him up?"

The ghoul waved the inquiry away, "don't worry about it."

Jefferson reloaded the rifle, and saw Charon looking. He raised his heavy eyebrows in a knowing look and tilted his head to the side. "Had to bring this baby because all my other guns miraculously _lost_ their ammo."

"Sorry." Charon grunted, but Jefferson merely shrugged, not seeming to really care. After the sniper rifle was loaded again, he set it down and went over to Vanessa, who eyed him distrustfully. Charon had seen this look before, and understood that, no matter how vulnerable she was, she was still the same person he had been traveling for three months. To her, _everyone_ she came across was an enemy, no one was a friend. Even if she did manage to gain an ally, she never trusted them. Charon was one of those people, and knew that she still didn't trust him, but he was all she had.

"I have a bit of experience with wasteland animal wounds," Jefferson said to her with forced friendliness, and, reluctantly, she allowed him to look her over. She unzipped her mercenary jacket and pulled off her scarf so he could pull the bandages down enough to examine the first gash.

The wounds were more swollen and puffier than before, almost grotesque. Charon watched as Jefferson examined them gently, shaking his head slightly, not liking what he saw.

"Sometimes deathclaws are poisonous, but it's rare," he said, running a finger delicately over one of the stitches, where the skin looked almost stretched and transparent, to the point where Charon could see the veins and capillaries underneath the surface. "Unfortunately," he continued, pulling away, "their poison is much different than that of a radioactive scorpion's. It doesn't leave the system on its own, and it seems like you're more affected from it than others." Vanessa stared at him, her face blank.

Jefferson sat back, looking at Charon, "deathclaw poison isn't that toxic, but if you're _allergic_ to it, it's fatal. So your girl here-" he ignored Charon's scowl, "-is going to have to get help soon or else she'll stop being able to stay conscience at all."

"Great," Vanessa groaned, and, to Charon's great surprise, her hand found his and squeezed it tightly. He wondered if it was a reflex, or if she was looking for some sort of comfort. If she was looking for the latter, he adjusted his hand and squeezed hers back. Jefferson eyed them both curiously.

"So," he said slowly, rubbing his stubbly chin, "you say you're heading to Megaton?"

"It's the closest option," said Vanessa, who seemed to understand they had no money for Paradise Falls, and no welcome party in Big Town. "Church is the only medic in these parts I trust, anyways."

"Well, after you two left-" Vanessa looked confused, and Charon reminded her of the house they stopped at, "-I got curious. I checked the radio to see what was happening around Megaton, and they've been having some trouble down there the last few days_. Super Mutant trouble."_

There was a moment of a silence, broken only by the sounds of the Yao Guai below, snarling and scraping at the rocks.

Finally, the fact seemed to set in, and Charon's head fell in sort of a defeated sigh, while Vanessa's grip on his hand tightened.

"Yeah, I figured the news would piss you off," said Jefferson, but he was smiling. "But since I'm such a Good Samaritan, I decided to lend a hand." He looked at Vanessa. "How long has it been since you got attacked?"

She glanced at Charon, who answered, "this morning."

"So that leaves a general time frame of half a day until all your bodily functions start shutting down, until the poison is surgically removed. The fuckers down near Megaton have been stealing the water that the Brotherhood's been delivering, and they've been gathering outside the gates, hoping to gain entrance into the city, now that the brotherhood and the other factions have stopped trading with them. Lucas Simms had no choice but to shut down the city and wait for help, but help is forever and a day away."

Jefferson cleared his throat, "so if you want into Megaton, you need to clear out the Super Mutants."

Charon scoffed, _"clear them out_? If Megaton shut down and is waiting for help, we're not just talking about a _couple dozen_; it could be a whole hoard."

"Hoard it is," said Jefferson, "but what Megaton has is an uptight sheriff and mayor. He doesn't believe in big guns, and he certainly doesn't believe in _these_."

Jefferson patted the enormous gun he had brought with him, and Charon noticed he had two bags slung over his shoulder that looked like they weighed a ton. It was then he noticed how abnormally large he was, and how much he didn't seem like a hunter at all. He was too. . . ._Militaristic_.

"This is a Fatman, ever heard of them?" He asked.

Vanessa looked at him with dark eyes. She didn't answer his question, but instead rasped out, "you're no hunter."

Charon couldn't deny he agreed with her. Jefferson merely smiled at her darkly. "Caught on, have you? Well, you're _right_. I wasn't always a hunter." His smile vanished, and in its stead there was an expression of deep dislike towards the girl before him. "I used to be with the Enclave, and I wasn't just some soldier, I was in the Hellfire division."

The vibes between Vanessa and Jefferson suddenly radiated tension, and Charon noticed the dangerous look she had on her face. Yes, Charon knew all about the history between Vanessa and the Enclave, but he never quite knew her personal feelings towards them. _This_ seemed to answer those curiosities for him.

"You admit to it as if it means you were the _fucking messiah_." Vanessa snarled at him.

"You know, I knew you looked familiar when this ghoul brought you into my house." Jefferson said. "Yes, I have _no_ regrets becoming a Hellfire Trooper, but I had beefs with the Enclave that went far beyond following orders, and thank god I got out of the faction before _you_ came prowling along."

Vanessa sneered at him, and Charon saw anger in her he hadn't seen since the doctor at Paradise Falls sold her dud stimpaks. "I ate you fucking Hellfires for _breakfast_."

"No doubt there," he said with a smile that made Vanessa squeeze Charon's hands tighter than she could have known. "But it just so happens that you're _dying_, and hating me will only make it _quicker_.

"I'm here to help, not to fight, and if you'd like me to wipe out those god-damn green-freaks with a mini nuke here-" he patted one of the sagging bags, "-then I suggest we try and get along."

Charon glanced at Vanessa carefully. Jefferson's words seemed to have some form of an affect on her, because she doesn't reply, and suddenly her anger subsides and she's back to the way she was before. Her eyes aren't so red anymore now that he's gotten used to their unhealthy color, but they are glazed and puffy. The shadows underneath are intensified in the dark, and Jefferson nods, satisfied with their one-sided agreement.

Charon looked at Jefferson, his milky eyes sharper than usual. "So, you'll just go in there and blow away the super mutants, so we can get through to Megaton? Just because you're a nice guy?"

"No, it won't be that easy," he said, "a mini nuke is just that; _mini_. It's not as big an explosion as you'd think, but I could take out enough of the mutants to cause a distraction, and you just run in through the dust and smoke and get to the gates. Of course there will be green-freaks who don't get caught in the blast, and you'll have to get past them on your own while I load another one of these. I only have two shots, so you'll have to deal with the gate yourselves."

Jefferson paused and smiled a yellow-tooth grin at the ghoul. "As for my reasons for helping you, let's just say I was heading to Megaton anyways, and this little predicament we have here will only help me finish my _business _without any trouble for Simms."

Charon decides it's better to just leave Jefferson's reasons to himself, and not question it farther. "What if we can't get the gates opened?" He asks.

"Then pray the mutants decide to bug out of there."

Vanessa scoffed quietly. "Super mutants don't _retreat_."

Jefferson gave her a strange look, and then said, "Well, then pray that Megaton hikes up the courage to take out the rest before they decide to _crush_ the two of you."

Charon nodded and asked, "When do we leave?"

"First I have to take care of those dogs down there," he said, gesturing with his head towards the edge of the ridge, where the Yao Guai were starting to settle down, but not entirely. "And while I'm doing that, your little _Lone Wanderer_ friend should get some rest. She looks like moving will kill her." He stood, leaving the Fatman and nukes behind, and made his way over to the edge of the rocks, where he started shooting down below the ridge. Each shot of the gun was followed by a brief whine, but Charon paid no attention to it. He turned his attention back onto Vanessa.

Jefferson was, of course, _right_. She seemed very frail now, almost breakable, and she gave him a half-hearted glanced, and he was glad that she seemed to have passed over her delusional stage. At least he thought so.

"What're you looking at?" She asked, as she swayed on her rock. There was no hostility in her voice.

He frowned, and put a hand behind her back to steady her. "You look like hell," he said.

"What else is new?" She sighed, and groaned as she eased herself down so she sat up against the rock. She didn't release Charon's hand, however, and he found himself forced to sit besides her.

When they had shifted so they were comfortable, up against each other's sides for support, Vanessa closed her eyes and laid her head against Charon's shoulder.

"This is such a mess," She mumbled, "it might have been easier for both of us if you just left me."

Charon ignored her, and casually said, "You spoke to me earlier as if I were your father."

She was quiet for a moment before she asked, "What did I say?"

"Something about a girl named Amata stealing you BB gun." He paused. "And you said you wish he hadn't died."

She nodded against him, and for a long time, they were silent, listening to Jefferson take out all the Yao Guai keeping them holed up. Then, she said quietly, "my dad died saving the wasteland from the Enclave. They were going to take control of the water purifier and contaminate it with a virus that would kill off any humans with mutations." She glanced up at him. "I was offered to do it, you know. None of you ghouls would be alive if I had agreed."

"I'm glad you didn't do it, then," he said simply.

Vanessa squeezed his hand again and said, "So am I." She let out a sigh. "You know, my dad got buried under all that stuff I did with the Brotherhood. Nobody really knows who he is, except for Three Dog, and he'd old news. It's a pity, because he was a great man."

She didn't say anything else after that, and Charon watched her as she fell asleep. He was frowning, but it wasn't because he was disappointed. He was a little uncertain, actually, because the two of them had finally crossed the line in their relationship. It was almost like the details of their lives were starting to slip out unexpectedly and it meant he was in uncharted territory now. Before it had been so simple; make sure Vanessa doesn't die: Retrieve freedom. But now it seemed much more complicated, even though it had only been a day since they had been in the linear, simplistic realm of employer-employee.

And yet, suddenly, holding her hand didn't seem so strange. And neither was hearing about her personal reflection of her own life, and how people saw her. A hero. But did she really consider herself one? Or did she feel that the honor should have rightfully fallen onto her father's name? Idly, Charon wondered if he'd ever tell her about his own past, about _how_ the man who bought him from the slavers had forced him to obey whoever held his contract, or about his wife and son he had lost to the bombs.

Who knows, he thought, because he certainly didn't. All Charon knew was that he was terribly tired, and he fell asleep besides Vanessa, and hoped that he'd be able to pack a nights worth of sleep into one hour. Because soon, they would be departing to Megaton, and they wouldn't be stopping this time.


End file.
